she's a witch, they cry
for she's strange,
she doesn't belong to the light,
dark smile, dark clothes, dark thoughts
she laughs,
for they're right
and begins a spell
she's a witch, they cry
for she's got power,
she runs the town with grace,
controlling wheat, rum, and men
she sobs,
for they're wrong
and so the witch trials begin
YOU ARE READING
The Witching Hour
Poetrypoetry about the wicked and the witchy || featured by WP Poetry on Oddities Unknown || #183 in poem (11/3/18)
